"how do you like the food?" chuuya's voice, rich yet sassy, flows through your ears like the finest of things. the orchestra plays in the back, an expensive melody as you cut the steak on your plate and take a bite. he sips from his glass of wine, cherry in color. he tilts his head with a lazy smirk. "here, let me feed you." he sets his wine glass down then, leaning forward to reach for your knife and fork. you hand the utensils to him, allowing him to cut the steak for you, stabbing into it with the fork before guiding the utensil to your mouth. your lips part, and your tongue darts out to catch the meat. his eyes follow your every move. hungry. holding. like a predator waiting for its perfect time to strike. but he doesn't. not yet.

the rest of the dinner date goes smoothly. you talk over your drinks and food, landing a spot in his penthouse, and his bed as soon as you make it to his place with his black, sleek lamborghini driven by his personal driver. he keeps an arm draped possessively around your waist, keeping you tucked at his side the entire drive home.*

at his house, his grand humble abode welcomes you with a line of servants, to each their own. whether it be maids, or butlers. finally reaching his room, the bedroom door closes behind you with a resounding click. he presses you against its surface, your body hitting the door with a soft thud. his knee slots between your legs like two puzzle pieces slotting together, the both of you breathing heavily by the second. he cocks his head to the side, free hand grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "time for dessert."